Sherlock's mouth dropped open as his brother flew out the door to the waiting taxi.
"What the heck was that all about?" Molly echoed his unvoiced sentiment.
"I have no idea." Sherlock went back into the sitting room, where the fire was once again blazing merrily, no doubt due to Mycroft's attentions. He saw the pile of gifts that had been given to his brother, lying forgotten on the floor. The only present Mycroft had taken was that photo of Lady Smallwood. He looked at Molly who was following closely behind.
"He left all his presents, how curious," she remarked, sliding an arm around his waist.
Sherlock's lips curved upwards in a conspiratorial smile. "Not all of them. He took the picture we gave him. I deduce, though I may be completely wrong, that my brother's 'urgent business' is with her."
Molly turned her head to look up at him. "Do you really think so?"
"Quite possibly," responded Sherlock, sliding his own arm absently around her shoulders before staring into space and following a train of thought. "I wonder-"
"Wonder what, honey?" prodded Molly, after he remained silent for several seconds.
He looked down at her, brow furrowed. "Well, you know how insistent he was that we make the trip to here and back in one day?" He guided Molly over to the sofa and they sat.
"Yes of course," Molly responded, with a look of inquiry at him. "What does that have to do with Lady Smallwood?"
Sherlock pursed his lips and responded slowly, still puzzling things out for himself. "Well, when my brother found out the chauffeur was not going to be able to take us back to London last night, he was not pleased."
"Of course not. Mycroft likes everything to be in perfect order. He is a creature of habit," pointed out his wife, taking his hand to lace their fingers together.
He shifted slightly to look at her more directly. "Yes, that's true - but what if the reason he was so put out was because he had another engagement he had arranged for after our return?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, I see what you are getting at. You think he was planning to see Lady Smallwood last night?" asked Molly, seeming to finally understand what he was getting at.
Sherlock's lips twitched with amusement. He was used to Molly being quicker on the uptake at following his line of thinking, but she was finally on the same page. Perhaps pregnancy was making her a little slower at following his reasoning - not that he would ever say that out loud to her. He wasn't a complete idiot. "Possibly. I can't say for certain, but it makes sense. There was this strange look on his face when Mummy said there was still hope for him. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that she was talking about marriage. Why would he have done that?"
"You're right,"Molly breathed. "I wonder if he has started to think of her as more than an occasional escort? In that photo he really did seem quite happy."
"To leave us the limo to go home in, while he takes a taxi-" He smirked at her. "Molly, I think my brother may have actually fallen in love."
She tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "If that's the case, good for him. He needs someone in his life to soften those rough edges."
Sherlock looked at her tenderly, "Like you did for me?"
"No, my love," she responded softly, stroking his cheek. "You just had layers that needed to be peeled away to reveal your true self."
Her analogy was so sweet he couldn't help himself. He pulled her onto his lap and lowered his lips to hers, giving his wife a long, lingering kiss that seemed to go on forever. He clasped her to him, savouring the feel of her lips, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. They sat there for some time, kissing, breathing in each other's scent until they heard the front door opening. Mummy and Daddy Holmes were home.
Mrs. Holmes peeked into the sitting room and glanced at the couple who still had their arms entwined. "Good morning dears," she said casually, before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.
She reappeared a few moments later. "Where's my other son? Did he go to the loo? It's not like him to leave the table when there is still food on his plate."
"Speaking of the loo, I need to go," Molly said, ducking out of her husband's arms and leaving him to make the explanations.
"Mycroft left a little while ago via taxi to return to London. He told Molly and me to take the limo back. He also said to say goodbye, and to say thank you to you, Mummy. What did you say to him?"
The Holmes matriarch looked thoughtful. "I believe I told him he should think about making an honest woman of his lady. But he told me not to push him, and that he had things to think about."
Sherlock's lips quirked. "Apparently he thought about them, judging by the haste in which he left. He even left his presents behind too, save that photo of him and Lady Smallwood."
Violet Holmes' brows lifted in surprise. "Really? How intriguing."
"Mummy, I suspect you might go from two bachelor sons to none in the space of a few short months." He smiled at his mother, knowing that was probably her dearest wish, then glanced at his father, who had been standing quietly.
"Well that would certainly be an answer to prayer," remarked William Holmes, speaking up for the first time.
"You pray for him?" asked Sherlock in surprise, looking at his parents.
"Of course we do, darling. Just as we pray for you, Molly and the ba..I mean Victoria," responded Violet Holmes, bending forward to to place a kiss on Sherlock's cheek.
Molly returned to the room at that moment. "You pray for us?" she asked with a delighted smile, seating herself beside Sherlock.
"We pray for all of you, Eurus too," was his father's quiet response.
"Well," said Sherlock solemnly, "apparently you both have a direct line to God, because you have one happily married son with a baby on the way, another son who appears to be ready to open his heart to love, and a daughter who is improving with every visit."
"I still find it hard to believe you told me she figured out you two were expecting before it was even visible, on that first visit you made with Molly," remarked his mother.
"Well, she saw our wedding rings first," pointed out Sherlock. "I think she was just guessing, but she refused to tell us how she figured it out." He looked at Molly and took her hand. "Perhaps it was that motherly glow she radiates."
Mrs. Holmes laughed. "Both of you give off that glow when you are together, and the looks you exchange, it just brings me such joy."
"We have a lot to be grateful for when it comes to my sister too," remarked Sherlock, glancing up at his parents once more. "I know it pleases her to think she was instrumental in bringing Molly and myself together, in righting some of those wrongs from so many years ago."
"I agree," said Molly with a soft note in her voice as she looked at her husband. "God works in mysterious ways, when out of such trauma can come something so wonderful." Then she added, "And I think it is wonderful that she has taken to reading the Bible we gave her and asking questions. Last time she even asked us to explain why it is so important to forgive one another. Then she asked if I truly forgave her for what she put me and Sherlock through at Sherrinford, and of course I told her I did."
Mummy Holmes bent down and hugged her daughter-in-law. "I couldn't ask for a better woman for my son than you. I can truly say I have never seen a couple more in love than the two of you. His transformation has been miraculous since you got together."
"All I did was love him, he did the rest," Molly replied, looking at Sherlock with a soft smile.
Sherlock looked back at her, captivated. "You loved me when I was unlovable, sweetheart," he said in a deep voice. "You were always the person who mattered the most to me, as I've said before."
The Holmes parents looked indulgently from their son to their daughter-in-law. Suddenly, Violet Holmes made an exclamation of surprise. "I didn't notice that lovely necklace of yours before, Molly."
"That's because Sherlock only gave it to me a few hours ago," responded Molly as her lips curved upwards, and she fingered the delicate filigree cross.
"My son certainly has good taste in jewellery as well as women," quipped William Holmes unexpectedly, laying an affectionate hand on his wife's shoulder and squeezing it.
Mrs. Holmes gave him a rather playful smirk as she said, "Just like you, dearest," and Sherlock had to repress a grimace as she continued, "Well, you two must be hungry, would you like something to eat?"
Sherlock and Molly exchanged glances and in unison said, "Yes please!."
Violet Holmes took her husband's hand. "Come, husband. Let's get some leftovers heated up for the young ones." Then she added to the couple on the sofa, "I'll make some turkey sandwiches too for you to take home as well."
"Thanks Mummy," responded Sherlock. His stomach was growling because he hadn't eaten in so many hours. His poor Molly hadn't eaten in just as long, and she had a baby to feed as well as herself.
After the older couple left the room, Sherlock stood and moved to the armchair closest to the cheerful fire, tugging Molly's hand so she would follow him. Then he patted his knees and she sat on his lap once again. He held her against him with one hand, the other resting lightly on her belly and felt once again a tiny flutter. "She moved...didn't she?" he said a little uncertainly. It was such a relief to know he was having a daughter rather than thinking of the baby as an "it."
"Yes," confirmed Molly, leaning into him. "I think she might be hungry too."
Sherlock inhaled the sweet-smelling shampoo he had washed Molly's hair with earlier, as she lay with her head against his chest. A deep contentment settled over him, and he was half asleep when his mother called him and Molly to go to the kitchen table and eat.
The leftovers tasted as good as the meal from the night before, he was so hungry. Molly tucked into her food as well with a hearty appetite. Sherlock's parents sat and enjoyed the food as well. The atmosphere was very peaceful.
There was time after eating, before the limo was due to arrive, so Mrs. Holmes pulled out a scrabble board. It was obvious from the outset that Mummy Holmes was a competitive player, constantly using little-known words and finding ways to make two words at once. Sherlock remembered many an evening as a young man where he had played with Mycroft and his mother. William Holmes was always completely outplayed, so he usually contented himself with watching.
Sherlock and his mother vied for dominance, with Molly trying to keep up with them. The Holmes patriarch didn't even try to compete. In the end, Sherlock claimed a narrow victory, but only because he finished placing his tiles and was able to add the unused letters of his opponents. It had been years since he had had so much fun with a board game, well except for on his honeymoon. The Monopoly games might not have been quite as fun when Molly had exhibited a different side of herself, getting a little upset with his wins, but he remembered with fondness their chess games, especially that game of strip chess which had been rather fun. It was quite amusing to do something like that in a game that had many more pieces to lose than clothes to remove.
He swallowed, realising the tangent his mind was taking might lead to an awkward situation, and forced himself to think of more prosaic games with his brother. Yes, he and Mycroft had indulged in the occasional game of "Operation," but that was never an enjoyable experience because the two were too competitive, and the loser inevitably sulked afterward.
Suddenly he had a new understanding about Molly feeling upset at losing to him those times on their honeymoon.
By the time they finished the game, it was after twelve-thirty. Sherlock and Molly gathered up their Christmas presents, including Mycroft's and got ready to leave.
Mrs. Holmes gave them a stack of sandwiches, as well as a container of stuffing, and one with leftover Christmas pudding. There were also a dozen ginger nuts. "This is too much," protested Molly, reluctantly taking the bag with the goodies and setting it on the the table.
"Nonsense," said her mother-in-law fondly. "You have a baby to nurture, and I'm sure between you and my son, the food will be gone in no time."
"Well, thank you," responded Molly sincerely.
"Don't worry, love, I'll be happy to just eat all the biscuits, and you can have the rest," teased Sherlock, and Molly gave him a playful nudge.
Mrs. Holmes shook her head in amusement and remarked fondly, "Heaven forbid anyone should get between my son and his ginger nuts."
Mycroft's town car arrived a few minutes before one. The chauffeur knocked on the door to let them know he was there.
Sherlock looked at him suspiciously, checking for lingering signs of inebriation. Aside from slightly reddened eyes, he was satisfied the man was sober and fit to drive.
The chauffeur put the presents in the limo while Molly made one last trip to the toilet. Then the couple kissed the elder Holmeses goodbye and walked towards the limo that would take them back to London.
Author's note November 12, 2018: As I update and improve this story and the chapters have become longer, I have decided to split the last chapter here and publish the rest of it separately. Again, I have included references to the honeymoon in order to add new elements to this story. I have also changed the discussion in regard to Eurus, because I made her progress a lot further mentally in A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage, which of course I could not have foreseen when this Christmas story preceded my writing of that part of the Journey story by several months.
So, if you read this already and didn't leave any feedback, or it is your first time reading, this is your chance to spread some Christmas cheer to me and leave your reviews. Then head on over to the final chapter...